Forgiven, Not Forgotten
by Isha-libran
Summary: Harry's son finds out why his Aunt Hermione never visits...


Title: Forgiven, not forgotten.

Ship:Ron/Hermione

Word count: 7,088—watch out, people.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: It's all Rowling's, I own nothing and I'm just doing this for fun. Please don't sue me, life is complicated enough as it is.

------------

'Mum, have you seen my black robes?'

'They're in the laundry. Wear your T shirt for today!'

The young man sighed as he rummaged around in his closet for said garment. He was a tall, red headed, blue eyed young man of about twenty two. He knew that he wasn't late for anything, it being a holiday, but he was hungry and wanted to be downstairs eating breakfast soon.

'I can't find it, Mum!' he hollered.

'It's right there, just look around a little!' his mother called back from downstairs.

'Found it!' he called out, slipping it on as he went down the stairs.

'Good morning, Mum,' he said, kissing her on the cheek as he slipped into his seat at the table.

He smiled at his younger sister, and set about making his usual cereal.

'Have all the invitations gone out yet, Sirius?' his mother asked, and he looked up.

She looked tired, and her red hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head. Her brown eyes looked a little dull behind her glasses, and he found himself wondering when it was exactly that his mother had grown old.

Well, he amended, he had always known that she was a little older than most of the other mothers—Mum was fifty seven years old, his parents had had their children late in life, but this was the first time he had ever really _felt_ that his Mum was old.

'Almost all,' he replied. 'The only ones left are those that have to go to the Longbottoms and the Lupins.'

His mother nodded, and then fixed him with a stare. 'What about your Aunt Hermione?'

Sirius fidgeted uncomfortably. He looked at his sister Lily for help, but she was engrossed in finishing the contents of her porridge bowl. He sighed, knowing he would have to go this one alone.

'But she never attends anything we invite her to,' he muttered. 'I don't think she even _cares_ about any of us.'

His mother opened her mouth, her eyes narrowed dangerously, and Sirius knew he would catch it.

However, before she could begin her tirade, another voice cut in.

'Don't ever let me hear you say that again.'

Sirius jerked his gaze to the door, startled to hear his father's voice.

His father entered the room, green eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He sat down at the at the table, staring at his son.

'Hermione cares a great deal for the both of you—for all of us,' he said, encompassing his daughter and wife in his glance.

'Well, she sure never shows it,' Sirius said, pushing his bowl aside.

Lily made a shushing motion, but he ignored her. He had never learnt to be as diplomatic as her—this was something that had bothered him for a while, and now that he finally had a chance to let it all out, he wasn't going to let it go.

'She never visits us, Dad,' he said, crossing his arms on the table. 'It's always you or Mum who drags us over there for Halloween or our birthdays or something. She never seems to make an effort, and she's never there at the Weasley reunion, either!'

'That's because she's not a Weasley, silly,' Lily interrupted.

Sirius glanced quickly at his father, surprised by the sudden involutary movement he had made.

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing,' the older man replied, but he was pale, and his green eyes were haunted. Sirius saw his father glance at his mother, and there was _something_ in that glance.

'Look,' he went on, pressing home his point. 'I know she was your best friend when you were at Hogwarts, and she was Uncle Ron's best friend too, so that makes us closer, but it's like you're the only one who remembers that! She seems to have forgotten it entirely!'

His father flinched when he mentioned Uncle Ron, and Sirius immediately felt bad for bringing it up.

Everyone had learnt the story in _History of Magic_, how the Gryffindor Trio had searched for and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes, how they had fought him one last time in Hogwarts, and how Uncle Ron had jumped in the way of the killing curse meant for his father.

He had come home the summer after his First year, furious that no one had told him what had really happened to his youngest uncle. His whole family raised toasts to Uncle Ron every year at the reunion, praising his bravery against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but he had had to find out the truth about his uncle's death from a _textbook_.

Sirius had asked his mother about it, his father had been away on Auror business at the time. He had demanded to know more, what had happened next, he asked her. He could still remember the tears that had gathered in her eyes when she had told him about the funeral.

Sirius had sulked, saying that there had been hardly anything in the textbook, and he had hoped for something more from his parents. His mum had told him that that had been the way his father and his Aunt Hermione had wanted it—they believed there was no use in raking up history. That they had told Professor Binns, who had written the textbook, that the only things he could write about the Final battle were the bare facts.

Sirius and Lily had tried asking their parents about their Uncle Ron, but they only gave them evasive replies. It had taken him a while to see the deep sadness in his father's gaze whenever the topic was brought up.

It was only the next year that he came to know that Uncle Ron and his father had been brothers first, and then brothers in law.

So he tried asking the rest of his family, but only his grandmother would talk of his uncle at any length. She always spoke of him with a smile underneath her tears, and she told him all the inconsequential details that he was hungry for, things like how his uncle hated maroon but wore the jumpers Grandma had knitted anyway, or how he had played Keeper for Gryffindor too.

Slowly, he had assembled some knowledge of his uncle. He remembered how he had once thought of asking Hermione about Uncle Ron.

He had been twelve years old, just home from Hogwarts…

'_I don't see why we have to go there,' he grumbled. 'She hates me,' he said petulantly._

'_Hermione doesn't hate you, darling,' his mother said. 'Doesn't she give you a Chocolate Frog everytime you visit?' _

_He nodded, suddenly remembering something. 'Hey, Mum, Aunt Hermione was at school with Dad and Uncle Ron, right? She should know something about Uncle Ron, shouldn't she?'_

_His mother got a dangerous expression on her face, and when she spoke, it was in her most commanding tones._

'_No. Absolutely not. I forbid you to ask her about Ron, Sirius. I mean it.'_

_He nodded, surprised at her vehemence._

'_Promise me you won't,' she persisted._

'_I promise,' he said, and she nodded, satisfied._

Recalling the incident which had occurred ten years ago, Sirius narrowed his eyes, staring at his parents.

'I just remembered,' he said softly. 'Hermione doesn't even want to _talk_ about Uncle Ron. Not then, and not now. She's cut us out of her life, Dad. So why should I invite her to my wedding? I _know_ she's not going to come.'

There was a small silence, while Sirius stared defiantly at his parents. Lily's eyes were huge and scared, but his Mum was staring apprehensively at her husband.

'You're right,' his father said finally, letting out his breath on a sigh. 'God knows she won't come, _especially_ not to your wedding.'

'What do you mean?' Sirius said, puzzled. 'Why doesn't she like weddings? Or is it the people--I mean, this is ridiculous--what did _Kelly_ ever do to her? Or does she not like the Finnegans--I thought she went to school with Seamus and Lavender?'

He wondered why his father smiled involuntarily at the last sentence, and he glanced at his mother to see that she too had a small, sad smile on her face.

'What is going on here?' he asked, suddenly tired of it. 'I don't understand it at _all_. You still treat Hermione Granger like your best friend, even though she clearly would like nothing better than to forget us entirely—you guys smile at private jokes the two of us,' he said, waving his hand at Lily, 'don't share—and I just want to know what's going on!'

His father sighed and looked at him. 'You want answers, son? You want to know why Hermione never visits us—and it's true, she _has_ tried to cut us out of her life--_you_ more than anyone else—' He didn't give Sirius time to digest that bit of news before going on, 'then you need to ask her yourself. It's up to her whether she gives you those answers or not.'

'Right now?' Sirius asked, stunned by this new information. 'I should go to her place right now?'

His father nodded. 'No time like the present.'

'Can I go too, Dad?' Lily asked, looking at him hopefully.

'Of course, Lily,' he replied.

Sirius got up from the table, and nodded at his parents, wondering what would be in store for him. Lily waved as they both Apparated away.

'Do you think that was wise, Harry?' Ginny asked, turning to face her husband.

'It was the only way,' Harry Potter sighed. 'They had to know the truth sooner or later. And besides, it'll be good for Hermione to tell someone. '

'I hope you're right,' Ginny said, still staring worriedly at the place her son had been standing. 'I really hope you're right.'

-------------

Hermione sat in her favourite chair, a rocking chair that stood just beside her picture window. Crookshanks was in her lap. He was old, but still reasonably healthy. She thanked her stars that kneazles had long lives. He was one of her oldest companions, she couldn't have borne his loss well.

It was Sunday, and today she didn't have anything to do. The Muggle school she taught at in the village was closed, all her papers were graded, her work was done, and she could enjoy the beautiful spring day she saw outside her window.

She loved the little cottage where she lived, it was situated in a field of flowers which she had allowed to run wild, and the sunlight hit the house at the just the right angle. She had loved it since the moment she had conjured it up, and she had enjoyed her years in the little place.

Hermione sighed, inhaling the light fragrance from the flowers outside her window. Her chest hurt suddenly, and she drew in a sharp breath. She let it out slowly, rubbing the ache away. She had been hurt thirty years ago, in her brief stint as an Auror. A Dark Wizard had hurled a curse at her, and the old scar had started acting up again.

The mediwizard she had visited recently told her that she had a year left. She had taken the news stoically. She knew Harry and Ginny would be devastated, as would the Weasleys, and she felt that it was better to have her death come upon them as a sudden shock. It would be easier for them not to know, and so she hadn't told them.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, seeking to fill her lungs with the fragrance of the wild flowers outside. It brought back such memories, and she smiled gently, lost in the past, remembering the very first time she had been here.

A sudden creak made her open her eyes, and she grabbed for her wand. Crookshanks jumped gracefully off her lap, and she pointed her wand at the unlocked door, wondering who it was. She wasn't expecting anyone…

A figure stepped inside the doorway, and she gasped, a name she had not spoken aloud in forty years spilling from her lips.

'Ron?' she said tremulously. She took a step forward, unaware that she had gotten up from the chair. 'Ron…'

Another figure joined him, and the spell was broken.

'Lily,' she said, closing her eyes in defeat.

'And Sirius,' she went on, her voice flat. 'Come in.'

----------

Sirius wondered why she looked away from him so quickly.

And why she had called him by his first name when he had first entered? Hardly anyone called him Ronald, he had always been known by his middle name, even at school.

Hermione sighed, and looked back at the two of them. 'Sit down,' she said abruptly.

They obeyed, and she flicked her wand at the door, and it swung shut. She flicked it again, and a jug of iced tea floated out of her kitchen, followed by three glasses. She filled their glasses silently and only after she'd taken a sip of her tea did she speak.

'So what are you doing here?' she asked, smiling a little to take the sting out of her words.

'We came to ask you something,' Sirius replied, wondering how he was to broach the topic.

'What do you want to know?' she asked.

He decided that the direct approach was the best.

'I want to know why you called me Ron,' he said.'And why don't you ever visit us? What are you hiding?'

She sucked in a breath, and looked away.

'Aunt Hermione, please,' Lily said softly. 'We have to know.'

She glanced at Lily, but her eyes skipped back to him. She stared at him for a long moment, but strangely, Sirius felt that she wasn't really looking at him—she was seeing someone else.

He stared back at her, he was seeing her again after five years. He had stopped visiting her ever since he had come of age, and her appearance came as a bit of a shock. She looked even older than Dad, there was grey in her hair, and lines on her face. He wondered at the difference a few years could make. He was startled out of his thoughts when she finally spoke.

'You look just like him,' she said slowly. 'You look just like Ron.'

Siirus blinked. His grandmother used to say that when he was younger, but no one had said to him in the recent past.

'Really?' he asked.

She nodded in reply. 'You look exactly like he did,' she said softly, a small smile on her lips. 'And when I saw you suddenly, with the light behind you…'

It occurred to Sirius that it was the first time he had ever heard his Aunt Hermione talking about Uncle Ron.

'Aunt Hermione?' he said softly. 'I—we—need to know why you never visit us,' he said.

She nodded, and set her glass down. Her cat immediately leapt onto her lap, and she petted him as she rocked in her chair.

'You're right,' she said. 'It's time that you knew.'

She remained silent for a long time, rocking her chair slowly.

'Aunt Hermione?' Lily prompted gently, and she turned her head to smile at his sister.

For a fleeting second, Sirius felt a stab of jealousy at their closeness. Lily's last family enforced visit had been last summer, when she had turned seventeen, but she had continued to visit their Aunt in the year that followed. Lily had always gotten along better with Hermione than himself.

'The story starts on the Hogwarts Express, forty eight years ago,' she said softly, without preamble. 'It starts when a brown haired girl went looking for a toad…'

She opened the door just as the boy was raising his wand, and she was immediately excited by the idea that someone else was trying to do some magic. But she had to complete the task she had set out to do, so she asked the two boys if they had seen Neville Longbottom's toad.

She wanted to see the red headed boy's magic, so she stayed behind even when the toad wasn't there, and she prompted him when it seemed like he had forgotten. He went a little red when she reminded him, but he waved his wand anyway, pointing it at his shabby rat.

Nothing happened.

She sniffed disapprovingly, and told him that his magic hadn't worked. Then she left.

It was years later that she realised that his magic _had_ worked, and he had worked it on her, right from that very first moment.

----------

She stood there in terror, watching as the troll came closer and closer to her.

'Run!' Harry said, trying to pull her up, but her legs wouldn't work.

The troll turned as Ron threw a tap at it. It advanced toward him, and Harry leapt on its back. She fumbled for her wand, reaching trembling fingers for her pockets, wondering where she had left it…

She stared, open mouthed, as Ron made the troll's own club levitate into the air and knock it out.

She stared at him in silence, shaking, and she realised that the boy she hated had just saved her life.

------------

'It's the only way, I've got to be taken.'

'No!' she shouted, scared of the implications of the word 'taken'.

He couldn't do it. There had to be another way. They could get past the White Queen some other way, he just couldn't think of it right now.

'That's Chess,' he snapped. 'You've got to make some sacrifices!'

She tried reasoning with him, as did Harry, but Ron didn't listen.

'Ready?' he called, and she realised she wasn't ready, she wasn't ever going to be ready to watch Ron _sacrifice_ himself…

He took a step forward, and the White Queen struck him. She screamed, and wanted to run to him, but she remembered the Stone.

As she and Harry ran away from the sight of their friend lying so still on the floor, one thought ran through her mind—_please_ _let him be alright, please_ _let him be alright …_

------------

She was shocked when Malfoy called her a Mudblood, but that was nothing compared to her surprise when Ron tried to curse him for her. It was nice of him to stand up for her honour, even if his curse had backfired.

The others, especially the Slytherins and the Twins, made fun of him, but she was grateful that he had defended her. And that he continued to defend her all through that year.

-------------

When he accused Crookshanks of eating his rat, she was furious that he didn't believe her when she said that her cat hadn't done it.

She knew Crookshanks would never have eaten Scabbers, and if he had, it wasn't on purpose, so it was unfair of Ron to blame _her_ for it. He should've taken better care of his pet, for one thing.

The months of silent treatment that followed were bad.

She had forgotten how much fun it was to have Ron around, and after the Firebolt Incident, when Harry stopped being friends with her too, it seemed like the end of everything. With the pressure of her Time turning, and Buckbeak's case, and Ron and Harry's coldness toward her, and Sirius Black being out and about, it was only natural that she would be on edge.

And when Ron suddenly ended the months of silence to say that he would help her in her research for Buckbeak's case, she broke down.

She flung herself on him, so glad that he stuck by her, remembering suddenly how he and Harry had gone to Aragog in their Second year. Because _she_ was petrified and Hagrid had said that the Acromantula was the only lead they had.

She hung onto him as he patted her back, and she thanked her stars she had befriended Ron and Harry.

--------------

The Yule Ball was announced, and he drove her up the wall with his pronouncement that he would only take a good looking girl. Wasn't she a girl? How could he go for _four years_ without noticing that?

It was annoying that Harry hadn't noticed the fact either, but it hadn't _infuriated_ her as it had when Ron made the same mistake. And then he was unbeleivably irritating, trying to trick her into telling him who she was going with, and then he was just plain nasty to her when he found out she was going with Viktor Krum.

He had the _gall_ to accuse her of 'fraternising with the enemy' and when she had finally lost her temper and told him to 'ask her first' next time, he could only sputter at her. She stormed upstairs in a huff, gnashing her teeth at the stupidity of boys.

But when she was all alone in her dormitory, she smiled as she remembered how Ron had ignored the lovely Padma Patil all night to glare at _her_.

-------------

When Ron would get angry whenever someone mentioned Viktor, she began to hope that maybe he was starting to feel for her what she felt for him. She had no idea when it had begun, but now she was aware that she fancied Ron. She was sure of it when she had sat by his bedside after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. He lay sleeping, but she sat next to him, wondering what he would say when he woke up.

She realised that she had almost lost him. But still she didn't say anything to him, because she was unsure of the situation. Their friendship was too precious for her to ruin when she wasn't sure how he felt, and there was the whole business with the prophecy and Harry and Sirius…

She didn't know what to do next, so she let the situation remain as it was, hoping that eventually, it would resolve itself.

----------------

When Slughorn announced his Christmas party, she realised that the time had come to make a move.

She was sick of this uncertainty between them, and maybe if they actually went to the stupid party, Ron would get the hint and make _his_ move…

She had wanted to make it clear to him that they _weren't_ going as friends, but she had chickened out at the last minute, hoping that he would get it anyway.

She was hurt and bewildered when he ignored her after his Quidditch match, but that was nothing compared to her heartbreak when she saw him with Lavender Brown.

Shell shocked, she slipped away from the party, the full force of her feelings hitting her suddenly.

Back when the concept of her and Ron had been only theoretical, she had thought that she would've been able to get over it if it hadn't worked out, and they dated other people—but she realised she was wrong. She hated it. She hated seeing Ron with someone else. She would never be able to get over it.

It was then that she understood that she felt something _else_ for Ron. Something far stronger than like.

She realised that it was love when he murmured her name in his sleep in the Infirmary, lying there unconscious after the treatment for the poisoning.

And because it was love, and because she had almost lost him _again_, she found she didn't care that he made mistakes in Charms, or that he didn't do his Potions essays on time, or that he made fun of S.P.E.W, or that he sometimes chewed with his mouth open, or even that he was going out with Lavender Brown.

And when Lavender broke up with him, and he was _happy_ about it, when he held her as she cried at Dumbledore's funeral, she dared to hope that their turn had finally come.

--------------

He said the words to her one night, when they lay in the darkness in some Muggle's barn.

They had spent that year roaming the country, looking for Voldemort's Horcruxes, and that night they had taken shelter in the first place they had found.

When he suddenly said the words to her,out of the dark, it didn't matter that the world was uncertain, that there was a war brewing, that Harry was asleep only a few feet away, or even that the air stank of horses and cows.

The scent of the wild flowers outside drifted in, and she whispered the words back to him. He kissed her, there in the barn, and it was _perfect_.

---------------

The night before what they knew would be the Last battle, he came to her room in the Burrow.

Ginny was in Percy's old room, the students had been sent home when Voldemort had challenged Harry to meet him there.

The three of them had known that the last Horcrux was in Hogwarts, and the task that lay before them was daunting. They had to find the last Horcrux, destroy it, and then meet Voldemort head on and kill him.

He asked her to let him hold her that night, and she didn't refuse him, because she couldn't. One thing lead to the other, and they made love that night. They had only had a few other nights like this that year, stolen moments when Harry was away or otherwise engaged.

He held her tightly afterwards, and he whispered to her that he had always loved her, and that he always would. He promised he would never leave her, and when she fell asleep, she dreamed of a life without war, a life where she and Ron shared a home, and Harry and Ginny dropped by occasionally for visits.

---------

It happened so fast. So fast that even months later, she had trouble remembering every little detail about that terrible day.

There had been Voldemort in front of them, his red eyes murderous. He raised his wand, Harry flinched and she screamed, there was a flash of brilliant green light—and Ron was lying on the floor.

Harry gave a cry of rage as she dropped to her knees in front of Ron. She knew that he had started duelling with Voldemort, but her entire mind was concentrating on the still figure before her. She turned him over with shaking fingers, and she desperately felt for a pulse, sure that he would be alive, Ron couldn't die, he had promised her he would never leave her…

She vaguely heard Voldemort's scream of agony which meant that Harry had won. She didn't care. She felt Harry drop beside her, his breath hitching as he said Ron's name. The tears came when she heard him give out a keening cry of sorrow and loss.

Other people drifted in a while later, officers from the Ministry to count the survivors, Aurors to secure the Death Eaters, but they wouldn't let the Ministry workers touch Ron. The Order lead the others away, aware that they wanted to be alone with their grief.

They stayed like that for a long time, holding each other and crying over the body of his best friend, and her whole world.

-------------

She cried when Harry spoke at Ron's funeral, he moved the whole audience to tears.

Ron would've been surprised to see that a _crowd_ had turned up to see him laid to rest in the small field outside the Burrow, next to the lake he had so loved as a child. But it was true, a crowd had come to pay their respects to the man who had made it possible for Voldemort to be defeated.

The place was awash in tears, and people directed sympathetic glances her way, where she sat in the front row with the rest of the Weasleys. Arthur Weasley gave her shoulders a squeeze as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't tell him that they weren't tears of loss, or of sorrow.

They were tears of hate.

Black, bitter hatred that ruled her heart. She hated Ron. She hated him. He had promised her he would never leave her, and then he had broken that promise.

He had lied to her—he had left her all alone, and she would never forgive him for it.

Never.

----------

She stayed in the Burrow at first, moving out into her childhood home a few days later. She stayed there for a week before shifting into her own apartment in Diagon Alley, overruling her parents'objections.

When her period was late, she was alternatively ecstatic and terrified. What if she was pregnant? Could she have gotten pregnant from that one unprotected time they had made love—a lifetime ago, it seemed now—the night before the battle that had claimed Ron's life?

She didn't see how she could raise their child without Ron, but she hoped for the news to be true with a blind fervour. She didn't tell anyone, determined to know for sure before anyone else.

The next day, she found out she was not pregant.

Thirty different types of home pregnancy test kits, both Magical and Muggle, couldn't be wrong.

That night, for the first time in her life, she drank herself into a stupor.

--------------

She took up a Ministry job that year, working to ensure equal rights for werewolves, goblins, house elves and centaurs. She found that she didn't enjoy it as much as she had once thought she would.

She lost touch with Ginny and the Weasleys. She wasn't overly concerned. She lost touch with Harry, and she found that she still worried about him.

He took the Auror position the Ministry offered him, throwing himself into the task of rounding up the left over Death Eaters. He cut himself off from the Weasleys too, living alone and living dangerously.

Harry upped and left his job one day without a word, and she heard that he was travelling the world. He came back only five years later. She was the first person to see him when he came home. He was better, but not by much.

He went back to his Auror job, and she joined him. They went Death Eater hunting together, and the zeal they showed for their job frightened their superiors in the Homicide department. Neither of them cared that they took more risks and caught more Death Eaters and common criminals than three Aurors combined.

At the Ministry awards and ceremonies, the organisers learnt to keep an extra chair at the table. Harry wouldn't allow anyone to sit at his right, that seat was always kept vacant.

No one understood it, but she knew he kept that seat empty for Ron. All through their years at Hogwarts, at lessons and at meals, Harry had always had Ron on his right.

------------

When she was injured in the course of her duty, she was forced by Harry to leave the job.

He had begged her to quit, tears in his eyes as he said that he couldn't bear to lose another one of his best friends.

She had agreed, the mention of Ron cutting through her like a knife. The seven years since his death hadn't served to change her heart, and she still hated him for leaving her.

She left her job, staying at home and getting bored out of her mind. That was when the offer had come from Professor McGonnagol to teach Transfiguration. The Headmistress told her that she was too old to continue handling her teaching job along with leading the school. According to Professor McGonnagol, there was no one better for the job.

She agreed, and so she started the next chapter of her life in Hogwarts. She saw other Weasleys occasionally, Fred's children, or Bill's chilren, and heart ached a little, but she was able to control it.

She came home from school that summer to spend the holidays at her parents' house. They were delighted to see her. She spent her days indoors, going over her students' papers, explaining things to her father. She surprised herself by laughing aloud one day.

She had forgotten how long it had been since she had last laughed, and she realised that it meant that she was starting to forgive Ron.

------------

She was surprised to receive a letter from Viktor Krum the next year. He told her that he had been married, and was now divorced, and could he start writing to her again?

They picked up their correspondence again, and she was pleased by the simple, undemanding friendship Viktor offered her.When she went home to her parents' place that summer, her mother surprised her by asking her if she had given Viktor Krum any thought.

When she had expressed her astonishment at such an idea, her mother revealed some shocking news. Apparently Viktor Krum had asked her mother if he could marry her.

Furious at her mother, at Viktor Krum, at the whole situation, she stormed out of the house.

She wound up at the Burrow, unaware that she had been thinking of the place until she had apparated there. Molly Weasely was the only one at home, and when she heard the story, she did a surprising thing.

Molly Weasley told her to let go of Ron. Let go and find happiness with Viktor.

With tears in her eyes, Mrs.Weasley told her that she had always considered her a daughter, and that she just wanted her daughter to be happy.

She shook her head, crossing her arms. How could Ron's mother suggest that she forget him?

In a few well chosen words, she told Mrs.Weasley that she could never forget Ron, no matter who tried to convince her otherwise, and would she go back and tell her Mum that she had tried, but _she_ couldn't convince her either?

Molly Weasley accepted defeat, knowing that she couldn't convince her to forget Ron, no matter how much she may wish her to move on.

When she got back home, her mother gave her more shocking news—she told her that Viktor was at their house _right now_, and he wanted to ask her something.

She shook her head again at the madness that was her life, and she marched in to see Viktor. When he asked her to marry him, she told him she couldn't marry him because he was a slimy Bulgarian git who couldn't even pronounce her name properly. Then she laughed hysterically.

Her mother was in tears when she found out that she had rejected Viktor, and that even Mrs.Weasley had been unable to sway her. Her mother forgave her in time, and eventually she stopped trying to set her up with eligible young men.

Viktor Krum never wrote to her again.

----------------

She went back to her routine of teaching at Hogwarts, and it was with surprise that she found out five years later that Harry and Ginny were dating again. It seemed that Harry had finally forgiven himself for what had happened to Ron and that Ginny had gotten over her depression at Ron's death.

When they were married three years later, she was the bridesmaid. She felt an ache in her heart when she saw Harry kiss his bride, thinking that if only things had been different, that could've been her…and Ron.

That night, she accepted the fact that she was going to live out the rest of her life alone.

She was thirty five years old.

--------------

Ronald Sirius Potter was born three years later.

She visited Harry and Ginny when they brought him home from St. Mungo's, and she played with the child, laughing over how similar he was to his namesake—he did nothing but eat and sleep.

She went home when she couldn't bear to be around the child any longer, when the thought of the little redheaded children she had hoped to call her own had become too much.

She didn't visit them much over the next few years—but they didn't seem to mind.

When Lily was born, Harry and Ginny visited her again, along with their family. Sirius, as he was now called, was four years old. She was glad that they were not calling him by his first name. Somehow, it felt wrong. There was only one Ron.

She went back to teaching at Hogwarts, and it was with surprise that she noticed her first gray hair one day. It was then that she realised that somewhere along the way, she had started to grow old. She thought nothing of it, until one year, she noticed a red head among the First years who had just arrived.

She turned white, seeing him clearly as he crossed the room to sit under the Sorting Hat.

She had seen the other Weasley children at Hogwarts, but this boy…

He was the spitting image of Ron at the same age.

She watched as the Hat called out the name, and the house—Gryffindor, naturally—and she called her house to order as they cheered hysterically, beside themselves at the fact that they had _Harry Potter's_ _son _in their house.

She went to Headmistress McGonnagol that night, and she resigned her job. The Headmistress was loath to let her leave, not least for the reason that she would have to teach Transfiguration herself that year. She was adamant, however, and she was relieved when McGonnagol suddenly went silent, having understood the reason behind her sudden decision.

She left Hogwarts the next day.

----------------

The Potters continued to visit her in the coming years, and she found that she dreaded and looked forward to their visits at the same time. She both hated and loved seeing Sirius again, but she wholeheartedly loved Lily, who reminded her of Harry.

And so life went on, until the day that Sirius came to her home, asking her why she never visited them.

Hermione stopped talking, and took a sip of her iced tea. Tears were streaming down Lily's cheeks, and even Sirius's eyes were shiny.

'Can you really not bear to look at me?' he asked quietly, pain in his voice.

She sighed, reaching forward to cup his cheek. 'Oh, darling, I'm so sorry,' she said softly. 'I don't really mean that.'

His heart lifted at the endearment, but he frowned.

'But—you said—'

'You remind me of the man I loved and lost, and in many ways you _are_ him,' she said, smiling at him, 'but I'm beginning to realise that _you_ are your own person. You're _not_ my Ron. And I'm sorry I took so long to see that.'

'So what now?' Sirius asked, looking at her.

'I'd like to get to know you, Sirius, if I may,' Hermione said slowly.

'I think I'd like that too,' he said, smiling at her.

'Come on, Lily,' Sirius said, pulling his sister along by the hand.

'Are you sure she won't mind?' she asked, looking at him anxiously.

'No, she won't,' he said, making his way to his Aunt Hermione's door. 'I Flooed her before I left. She's expecting us.'

He entered the little cottage, and found her waiting for them. Involuntarily, Sirius recalled the reception he had received the year before, the last time he had visited her. This time, there was a pitcher of iced tea waiting for them, and Aunt Hermione was smiling as they sat down.

They chatted of inconsequential matters for a while, and Sirius stopped speaking when he realised that Aunt Hermione had fallen asleep in the middle of his conversation. He smiled as Lily teased him for putting their aunt to sleep, and he plucked her reading glasses off her face, and placed them carefully on a nearby coffee table.

Sirius joined Lily in the kitchen as she put away the pitcher of tea and their glasses. He had spent the better part of the last year and a half getting to know his aunt better. She had begun by attending his wedding, and then they had taken things from there, slowly building their relationship. He was happy to say that now they were friends.

His parents had been thrilled at the development, especially when Aunt Hermione had visited them at Halloween. His father had recounted the story of the infamous troll, making Aunt Hermione and Mum cry.

And Sirius had felt proud when all three of them had said once again how much he was like his Uncle Ron.

Sirius turned to Lily now, and tapped her on the shoulder.

'I think we should wake Aunt Hermione up,' he said to her.

His sister nodded, and he led her out into the sitting room again. He stopped in front of his aunt, and leaning forward, he shook her gently.

'Aunt Hermione?'

She didn't reply. Something cold gripped his heart, and suddenly he was scared. He shook her again, and Lily pushed him aside. She felt quickly for a pulse, and then looked up, her eyes huge and sad. She shook her head mutely.

'She's…she's gone?' he asked, almost unable to get the words out.

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes.

Sirius moved away, head spinning. He had to tell Mum and Dad. They had to know right away. He heard Lily start to cry, and he pulled out his wand distractedly. He had to apparate home…

He stopped when he saw something out of the window. He squinted, and gave a sharp cry of surprise.

'What is it?'

Lily was up and next to him, staring out of the window too. She gasped.

'You see it too?' he asked her. She nodded, and he fell silent.

As they watched, they saw a faint, silvery shape run down the garden, away from the house.It looked to be the figure of a young girl, with flowing hair. Sirius noticed another silvery figure at the end of the garden, and he saw the girl fling herself into this figure's arms. The second figure—that of a man—swung her around happily, and they hugged again joyfully.

'Sirius,' Lily said, her voice shaking. 'Do you think—Uncle Ron—'

She had voiced the very thought in his mind, but he didn't reply. As he watched, the two figures turned and faced them. The woman was in the man's arms, and their faces were clear now. They started to fade away, but he saw that they were smiling.

Sirius watched as his Aunt Hermione waved to him from Uncle Ron's arms, and he knew that finally, she was at peace.

---------------------

End.

A/N: Whew. I really strugged against writing this, mainly because I don't like fics that kill Ron, but I had no choice. This story was driving me MAD, with dialogue and scenes jumping into my mind at odd moments.

--Side notes that I couldn't explain in the story: Hermione mistakes Sirius for Ron when he appears at her cottage in the beginning because it's been five years since she's seen him, and also because he looks like Ron. (For anyone who thinks that children only look like their parents, it's not _always_ true. Believe me, I graduated in genetics.)

Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys wouldn't notice the resemblance so much because they've seen Sirius grow up, and also because they see him everyday, so he's very much his own person to them.

Hermione lives in a cottage she conjured (a la the Burrow) in the field near the barn where Ron told her that he loved her.

--This fic was inspired by the song 'Forgiven, not forgotten' by The Corrs. It was written by Andrea Corr (I think) and is a brilliant song.

--Thanks to all the readers!

--Feedback is love.


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